Astronomical Twilight

out of control

It is 6am and the sun has already blown the house to shards. We are north of a certain latitude in which, around the summer solstice, it never gets fully dark. The days are long; the sun doesn’t get 18 degrees below the horizon. In other words, there is no night.

Last night, A. and I sat down to dinner and I said, I am not sure how to balance everything. I liked saying it, the way it flew off as soon as I was done. There is nothing to do about balance but to watch yourself try and eventually fall over. You cannot control time. 

Two weeks ago, I returned to the coast, the long-night-place. I finished my 6th drive across the land we call america. There were waterfalls in Minnesota and flat, dry plains in Washington state. I saw one snake, one dead owl, one dead fox, 22 long-gone armadillos on the road. I saw so many friends, we toured the land of one another: we showed each other what we saw. One day, I said, we will all be together. 

…

As pretty as it is, this is my least favorite time of the year. I am a sneezing, disappearing mess. A few weeks ago, I was in the paint aisle alone, with a hand cupped with snot (sorry). No tissue, no key to the bathroom. No free hand to use the key anyway. In Oregon, my body would swell and become a big rash.

On Tuesday, I drove home from the mountains and lost my vision and the feeling in my body. I had to call for help because I did not what was happening to my body. The migraine patterns are odd, yet they change and become stranger. I cannot control its inevitable change, cannot know it long enough to ask it to stop. The sweet people ask, Are you okay? And I have to say no and people are uncomfortable with no because what then? There isn’t anywhere to go from there. There is not a solution. Not yet.

I am uncomfortable with no, that dead end. My body teaches me so much. The aura comes and goes, sometimes it lingers for days. Other times I throw up for an hour and that’s it. There is always relief in the end, no matter how long it lasts—it is all there, laid out like a travel log with ticks and marks. How terrible, how wonderful it is to learn who we are after everything. I don’t want to be sick now. I don’t want to be sick as the light lingers.

And so here I am, alive and fine, after a two-day migraine. I am always shocked to be on the ground in so much pain, like I am overcome by a spirit. It comes as a surprise every time. And when I am well again, too. The surprises come in buckets, so many of them: the need for help, the embarrassment to ask, the release of what we thought it would be like. These are curious things, our valleys of bone and muscle. We barely know a thing.

I am trying to heal, and I am healing, but it is a long process. There are doctors and insurance and medication and supplements. There is never one answer. There is always pain at some point, somewhere. It is never the way we imagine, not quite.

Hoping for peace and wellness in your bones.

…

A note:

This space is dear to me, yet it requires a lot of time. There is a large amount of balance that goes into deciding what goes into the world and what stays with me. And even, sometimes, a part will go out to the world, but not everything. That is the power of writing—the creator gets to choose. It is not black and white, there is a sprawling place of gray. That is to say, I have other projects that I hope to give attention to this summer, while the long light lasts. I have everywhere I want to be, but I can only be in one place. I am working on my own rhythm and balance and when it feels perfect, I will let it all go. My body teaches me to let go.

Thank you for all who support this newsletter either financially or by reading and sharing. If you have ever considered becoming a paid subscriber, please do. Every bit helps. Love to all. I will be resting and flying a bit out of control, in a good way.

Jolie